Chasing Joshua
by volta arovet
Summary: The Composer is missing, Shibuya is dying, and Rhyme is the only one who can track Joshua down


Nearly a month of writer's block. That's what Rhyme realized as she crossed out her entire day's progress in one easy stroke. In the past month she managed to: waste one fraction of a tree in her notebook, inconvenience a handful of electrons in her laptop, and spend a great deal of pocket change at the WildKat Cafe. Rhyme slurped on her soda and glared at the paper.

A pair of girls passed by Rhyme's table, each holding one of the cafe's specialty desserts. "Is it just me, or does the food here look less cute than it used to?" one asked.

"I know, right?" the other one agreed. "It's like, the bunny chocolates used to look really cute and happy, but now they just kinda look sad."

Maybe it wasn't right to call it writer's block. It's not that she couldn't write, it's that the writing was bad. Like, really bad.

"Excuse me," said a guy in skinny jeans, squeezing behind Rhyme's chair. He wore a purple striped shirt and a red bandana that almost, but didn't quite, match. The color clash made Rhyme wince.

Rhyme flipped back a page to yesterday's work, scanning through it. It wasn't even that the writing was bad, she realized. It was boring. It meandered. It didn't have a strong idea or intriguing point of view. The ideas fell flat. Everything just-

"It doesn't work!" A woman at the next table tossed her sketchbook aside. She buried her head in her arms, hands gripping the hair on the back of her neck. "Oh God, I'm going to lose my job."

A flicker of black caught Rhyme's eye. A frog-no, not a frog. A Noise. It hopped off the floor, springing off of an empty chair, and landed on the woman's table. It croaked cheerfully, cheeks expanding, then parted the woman's hair and started wiggling its way into her ear.

Rhyme quickly stood up, nearly toppling her chair to the floor. She rushed to the woman's side and flicked two fingers at the Noise, hissing, "Shoo!" The frog toppled out of the woman's ear, falling stunned to the floor.

The woman stared at Rhyme, who shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. There was a bug on you," she said, and gathered up the woman's sketchbook and fallen pencils. She handed them back with a smile, saying, "If it makes you feel better, I'm probably going to fail my creative writing class, too."

"Thanks," the woman said wearily. "Writer's block?"

"Yeah. But I always remember: 'this too shall pass,' right?"

"I hear caffeine helps speed the process," a man's voice said behind her. Rhyme jumped-she hadn't even heard anyone walk up behind her. She turned and was face-to-face with the only beatnik left in Shibuya.

"Hello, Mr. Hanekoma," Rhyme said politely, ignoring the dread that was settling into her stomach. "How are you doing?"

Hanekoma threw his head back and barked a sharp laugh. He looked more bedraggled than usual, the crooked hang of his tie less 'fashionably unkempt' and more 'haven't done laundry in a week.'

"What, you can't guess?" he said, gesturing at the cafe as a whole. She had never seen it so full or so grumpy.

"That bad, huh?" Rhyme said, and Hanekoma laughed again.

"Yeah, that soda of yours isn't going to cut it. This is at least a 'coffee' level of bad. Walk with me, talk with me, I'll treat you to a cup."

Rhyme gathered up her things and quickly stuffed them into her bag, giving the woman a polite nod. "Only a 'coffee' level? It can't be that big of an emergency." She followed Hanekoma behind the bar into the kitchen.

"Did I say 'coffee?' Maybe I meant 'espresso.' You old enough for espresso?" he asked, looking at her sideways over his glasses. There were circles under his eyes.

He moved fast-slow strides, but long legs. Rhyme had to hurry to match his pace, but she caught up easily after the second time he bumped his knees into a table. "I'm sixteen," Rhyme said.

"Already?" He seemed honestly shocked.

"Time flies," Rhyme simply said.

Hanekoma laughed to himself, a low, hoarse sound. "You're making me feel old."

Rhyme shrugged.

"You're supposed to say, 'Mr H, you haven't aged a day!'" he protested.

"Mr Hanekoma, I don't think you age at all," Rhyme replied.

"I appreciate the compliment, kid." He reached the back of the kitchen and put his hand on a blank part of the wall between a sink and an oven. "So I'm guessing you've been in a bit of a creative slump recently?" he asked.

"I think everyone's been lacking inspiration," Rhyme said.

Hanekoma's eyebrows raised, and he gave her a tired wink. "Good catch. Shibuya's officially tapped dry. You want to know where the inspiration is?" His hand fumbled once, then closed around a doorknob that wasn't there before. "Long story short, it's in there."

He gave a tug, and the wall swung open, revealing a space that was so dark and so empty and so big, Rhyme couldn't even see the ceiling or the walls.

"What do you..."

"Funny twist to the long story: you're probably the only one who's capable of going in there, finding the inspiration, and getting back in one piece." Hanekoma coughed again and looked away, shoulders sagging. "Sorry. I'd do it, but I'm barely holding the city together. Neku could get him easy if he took the Big Drop, but I don't think he'd forgive me for that. It's down to you, kid."

Rhyme's hand clenched at her chest where her bell used to hang. "You really think I can do it?" she asked.

Hanekoma gave a smile. It seemed genuine, if a bit tired around the edges. "That was a neat trick with the frog earlier. You'll be fine."

The words 'do I have to?' formed and died before they reached her mouth. Of course she did.

"Okay," Rhyme said, and took a deep breath. "Tell Beat..." Rhyme paused again. "Tell him I might be a little late. We're supposed to have dinner at his apartment tonight."

Hanekoma tapped two fingers to his brow in a mock salute. "Can do."

Rhyme nodded. "Well then. Fools rush in, right?" she said, and walked through the door.

* * *

It was dark. That was her first impression. Nothing was there, no walls, no ceiling, not even the doorway she had just walked through. She held her hands in front of her. She could see them just fine. She looked down: the buckles on her school shoes sparkled like they were in the sun. She looked up: still blackness.

Something bright flashed on her fingertips. She only caught a glimpse of it, but it was flat and had sharp corners. She brushed her fingers cautiously through the air, and where they passed, jagged outlines started to glow silver and purple. It looked like the air itself was tattooed.

"I guess I understand why Mr. Hanekoma didn't want to tread here," Rhyme said to herself. It sounded funny in her head, but fell flat when it didn't make the slightest echo.

The Noise didn't seem to recognize her as a threat. Then again, even in the real world, they rarely noticed her at all.

She spread her fingers and spun around, lighting up as many as she could. The Noise were thicker in one place. Working on instinct, she followed their trail.

"Excuse me," she said to them, keeping her hand in the thick of the Noise as she walked. They drifted gently, like she was disturbing a layer of algae on top of a lake. The Noise eddied out in little whorls, shining bright and silver until they darkened and slowed to a stop. "Excuse me. Pardon me. Don't let me bother you. Thank you."

The Noise became much thicker, layered in a large lump around a particular point. Rhyme took a deep breath, put the backs of her hands together in front of her, and pushed them apart as gently, as politely, as possible.

There was something glowing within this patch of Noise-something that didn't fade as the Noise stilled. Rhyme reached in and brushed the Noise away again. Her hand touched something soft and stranded, like frayed silk, but her fingers slipped through it like water.

Rhyme pulled more of the Noise away, and she saw a glimpse of hair-glowing, floating, white hair, but definitely hair. She waved more frantically at the Noise, and a face and shoulders appeared-also glowing, also white, also smooth and perfect as a statue. It was unnaturally beautiful. Its eyes were closed, and as her fingers removed the last of the Noise from its face, it gave a slow, beatific smile.

"Hello, Neku," it said, opening its eyes. "I knew you'd take the Drop for me."

"Um..." Rhyme said, pausing with her fingers pressed to its cheek.

The creature's eyes focused. It gave a frown that was as strangely human as it was confused.

"Rhyme?" it asked. "Why are you here?"

"Hello, sir," Rhyme said politely, falling back on good manners when nothing else was familiar.

"Sir?" the creature said with obvious displeasure. It brushed off the Noise like they were fallen leaves caught on a coat. "One moment, let me just..."

The glow faded away until the creature was just a boy in a button-down shirt. Light hair, thin shoulders, maybe a year or so younger than her. "Is this better?"

"Yes, thank you. I, um." Rhyme gathered her thoughts. "Mr. Hanekoma sent me to collect the missing inspiration?"

The boy gestured at himself. "You found it. I'm the Composer of Shibuya. That means Shibuya is basically me. It's sort of like being a god. You can call me Joshua."

Rhyme smiled shyly. "I've never talked to a god before."

Joshua waved a hand. "Oh, we've met. Back when you were, you know." His hand fluttered uselessly through the air. "A flying squirrel."

"I don't remember much about those days," Rhyme said. "Just that I lost the Game, lost my dreams, and somehow ended up alive anyway."

Joshua shrugged expansively. "It was smart of Hanekoma to send you; you're _just_ Noise enough that they don't recognize you as human. Anyway, we're kind of in a bit of a pickle here." He sat down, the Noise arranged themselves into an impromptu chair.

He motioned at Rhyme, who also took a seat. She wiggled back and forth; the Noise were surprisingly sturdy and thankfully inactive.

"Okay, get me up to speed," Joshua said. "How bad is it out there?"

Rhyme put a finger on her lips as she thought about the best way to put it. "Today, I saw a sign outside of D+B that said that 'Black is the New Black.'"

Joshua buried his face in his hands. "Oh, that's just embarrassing."

"It could be worse," Rhyme said. "Somehow."

"That's true," Joshua said, fiddling his fingers through the air. "For instance, when Shibuya was under attack, the Composer could have gathered up all the stored inspiration and fled to a safe zone, then realized that he was so weighed down with the energy there was no way he could get back home." He pressed his fingertips together and gave her a look.

Rhyme stared at him in shock.

"Theoretically speaking," Joshua added.

Rhyme closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "What do you need me to do?"

Joshua leaned back in his seat, twisting a curl around one of his fingers. "I'm so glad you asked," he said brightly. "This place we're in? Imagine it's a pit. It sort of is a pit, but I'm speaking metaphorically. Now imagine that coming out of the pit are many long poles, and on top of those poles are different platforms. Those represent all the different Shibuyas in all the different dimensions. It's easy to fall down here, but it's hard to get back up. Right now, I'm way too heavy to climb up any pole, and I have no idea if the one I choose is right. However, someone like you would have no problem scurrying up there."

Rhyme nodded, trying to follow along. "So you want me to, what, throw you down a rope?" she asked.

Joshua smiled and leaned forward, resting his arms on his long legs. "Bingo. Of course, metaphysically speaking, what I said about how dimensions work is wrong in pretty much every way, but let's go with that. You're going to need to give me a spiritual anchor to follow." Joshua frowned. "Though now that I think about it, the only thing that's strong enough to anchor me is, well, me."

"Could we get another you from one of the other dimensions?" Rhyme asked.

Joshua dismissed that with a shake of his head. "No, I know me. I'd steal the inspiration and never think twice about it." Joshua snapped his fingers. "I've got it! I'm going to send you a little backwards when I send you back, okay?"

He jumped out of his chair, the Noise drifting apart and turning invisible as soon as he stopped touching them. He put his arms around the back of Rhyme's neck. For a moment she wondered if he was going to hug her or choke her, and then she felt a familiar weight hanging from her neck. "Just put this on me when you find me, and give me a ring if you're stuck. Got it?"

Without waiting for her response, Joshua grabbed Rhyme's hand.

"Wait!" Rhyme said, putting her hand on top of Joshua's.

Joshua paused.

"I want my dreams back," she said. "In return for doing this."

Joshua smiled and gave her hand a squeeze, hard enough that it hurt. "I think we can come to an arrangement."

He gave her a push, and she stumbled. Rhyme felt herself falling back, falling farther, past the floor, and suddenly, she was gone.

* * *

Rhyme blinked in the sudden, bright sunlight. The sun was high, the sky was blue, and the air was warmer than it had been for months. Cheerful, electronic music played. She spun around, getting her bearings, and realized that she was in the center of Shibuya Crossing.

As she spun, she felt something thump against her chest. She grasped it and held it up-it was her pendant.

She thought she had lost it years ago. She knew she had. She had cried all night when she realized the clasp had broken and it had fallen off on the train. She held it tight and smiled. At the very least, she had this back.

On the back of her hand was a timer. It read slightly under five hours now. More than enough time, Rhyme thought.

Car horns started blaring. Rhyme realized with a start that the cheerful music had stopped playing. She was standing in the middle of the street.

"Come on, you want to get run over?" a girl yelled at her, waving. Her fluorescent bangles flashed in the sunlight.

Rhyme bolted for the sidewalk, hand clenched around her pendant to keep it from banging against her chest. She bent over, bracing her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. "Sorry," she said to the girl. "I guess my head was in the clouds. That's not usually like me."

"Be careful," the girl said with a kind smile. At least, Rhyme assumed it was kind. It was a little hard to read her expression behind the thick layer of bronze foundation and the white paint carefully arranged around her eyes. "Getting hit by a car sucks."

"I know," Rhyme said. She cocked her head. "Oh my gosh, you're a ganguro girl!" she exclaimed suddenly.

The girl laughed. "What, you've never seen one before?"

"Only on the internet," Rhyme said.

The girl snorted. "You should have come to Shibuya more often, then. It's totally popular here." The girl fished a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it carefully, holding it between long, hot pink fingernails. They were so long and bejeweled, Rhyme almost didn't notice the timer on her hand. "My name's Beri, by the way. I like your pendant," she said.

"Thanks. I'm Rhyme."

Beri took a deep drag off of her cigarette and let it seep out through her teeth. "You seem cool. Do you want to partner up?"

Rhyme gave an apologetic shrug, clasping her hands behind her back. "Sorry. I'm not actually playing the game."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." Rhyme shuffled her feet. "If you head down to Hachiko, you'll probably find a partner. That's where the players tend to meet. Oh, and watch out for traps around Day Four. The Reapers don't always play fair."

"Thanks!" The crossing's music started to play again. Beri jogged out into the street, turning around to wave at Rhyme. "I owe you one, Rhyme!"

Rhyme waved back. As she turned, her pendant jingled a little. She experimentally turned away, then turned back. The pendant jingled again. She held it by its chain and swung it slowly back and forth, like a divining rod. It rang again when she pointed it towards 104. "Either an angel is getting its wings, or you're trying to tell me something," she said to the little bell.

She followed its path towards 104. Something was strange about Shibuya, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Some of the buildings looked odd. The stores weren't quite right-some of them had changed, and others sported merchandise that was surprisingly retro, and retro wasn't "in" last time she checked.

Even the crowd was strange, and that wasn't including the Reapers and the people playing the Reaper's Game, even though it was odd to clearly see them running about. She counted half a dozen more ganguro girls in the crowd, and these ones seemed to be alive, at least. A big crowd came out of 104, and above it all, she could hear Morning Musume blasting a peppy pop song.

"I'm going to send you a little backwards when I send you back, okay?" Joshua had said.

"He sent me back in time!" whispered Rhyme in the present - or not quite the present.

She couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but she thought that, maybe, she was somewhere in the mid- to late-nineties.

She held the pendant out in front of her, following its reassuring jingle. She passed a store with a large spread of accessories in a display case out front. "Ah! The original Malice Mizer fashion clip set!" she said, slowing to linger over the display. She bit her lip guiltily, wondering if she could spare the five minutes to get some prime fashion history. But what about her money-wouldn't it look twenty years out of date? Well, the bills definitely would. Maybe she had enough coins...

"No, Rhyme!" she said to herself, straightening up. "Eyes on the prize!"

Her pendant jingled more loudly. She looked around. He had to be nearby, right? He had to...

There, at the store across the way! A girl looked at a tray of hairclips, and a large, white shape with wings hovered over her shoulder. It pointed at two items on the tray, and a moment later, the girl pointed to the same two items. The clerk seemed confused, but took them out and laid them on top of each other.

Rhyme sprinted towards Joshua. That had to be Joshua, right? How many amorphous white beings of light could there be in Shibuya?

By the time she reached the store, Joshua had already flitted away. She overheard the clerk say, "Actually, those look really cool together. Good eye!"

"I know, right? I don't know, it just came to me."

The jingle of Rhyme's pendant quieted down. She looked around, trying to figure out where Joshua had gone. She held up her pendant again. It jingled faintly when she pointed it towards a side street. She jogged down to Dogenzaka and turned the corner just in time to see Joshua slip through the door into a ramen shop.

Rhyme ran to follow him and was stopped at the door. "Dude, what are you doing?" a guy asked her.

"Yeah, wait in line," the girl next to him said, pointing a long, painted fingernail at the end of the line of people waiting outside.

"Sorry, I've got a friend waiting for me in there," Rhyme said.

"Yeah, and my sick grandma's in there, too," the guy said. "You can wait for them both at the back of the line."

Rhyme dithered back and forth before slinking to the back of the line. She wasn't sure how to explain how much more important than ramen this was. Some people took ramen very seriously.

It took ten minutes, but she made it inside the ramen shop, her pendant softly dinging all the while. She bobbed her head back and forth, trying to get a glimpse of white light. He wasn't behind the counter. Maybe he was in the kitchen?

"Excuse me," Rhyme said once she reached the front of the line. "I'm doing a report on local food culture for one of my classes. I was wondering if I could get a look at the kitchen?" she asked as sweetly as she could.

"Sorry. Health regulations," the man at the counter said. "What can I get you?"

"Really?" Rhyme said. "Just a peek? I promise I won't touch anything!"

The man shook his head. "Sorry again. Are you ordering something?"

Rhyme checked the prices of the ramen. "Shio ramen?" she said, choosing the cheapest. She probably had enough coins for that. Nobody checked the dates on coins, right?

As they poured the broth into the bowl, a flash of light darted out of the kitchen and through the front door.

"I'm sorry, I've got to go!" Rhyme said, and ran out the door without paying the bill or taking the ramen.

She ran back up the side street and stood outside the 104 building. According to her pendant, he was probably somewhere inside. She went inside and followed the ringing up three flights of stairs. She poked her head inside the stores and spotted Joshua on her second try.

The store still had the bars down and there were signs around announcing their grand reopening on a certain day. A very fashionable lady was going down the line of mannequins. Joshua floated behind her, bobbing approvingly.

"Yes, yes, yes," she said, pointing to each mannequin in turn. Her assistant noted everything on a clipboard. "Yes, yes, no, yes, no, yes..."

"NO," Joshua corrected emphatically.

"On second thought, that was a 'no.' Yes, yes, and yes." Her assistant made the final note on her clipboard and stuck her pen back in her hair.

"Excuse me!" Rhyme said, rattling the gates. "I was wondering if-"

"We open in two days," the lady said primly.

"I know, but..."

Joshua flew through the bars and down the stairs.

"Never mind!" Rhyme shouted, barreling down the street, but by the time she reached the bottom, she had lost him.

It took her twenty more minutes to find Joshua again. She had had to buy a subway pass to get to him, happily resting next to a man busking with a guitar. The man's voice was deep and throaty, and she would have been happy to listen to him for a while, but she had a mission.

She got hung up in the turnstile; they were a different setup than the one she was used to, and she pushed the wrong way on it. She was halfway down the station when a police officer strolled up to the busker and informed him that there had been a complaint and he would have to leave.

The man took the news in stride and packed up his guitar.

Joshua flew away.

Rhyme swore.

Rhyme made a fist and clenched it to her chest. "Okay, Rhyme, don't give up," she said to herself. "Remember: it's always the last key you try that opens the door." She nodded, determined, and raced off in the direction Joshua had flown.

When the timer on her hand read just under two hours, and she was panting and leaning against Hachiko's base, Rhyme gave up and rang her pendant as hard as she could.

* * *

"Sooooo..." Rhyme's eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, but she could make out a mop of light hair and an insufferably smug smirk. "How'd it go?" Joshua asked.

Rhyme batted him away, debated getting to her feet, and instead slumped into a more comfortable position on the floor. "I think we need a new game plan."

"Really?" Joshua slumped back into his makeshift Noise chair and tapped at his chin. "You couldn't find me? I thought you'd have a good chance in the 90s. I was everywhere back then."

"That's the problem," Rhyme said. "You're _everywhere_ and you _never stop moving_. How am I supposed to catch you?"

"Did you try asking nicely?" Joshua asked. Rhyme gave him an extremely dirty look. Joshua sighed. "I guess I was a bit of a try-hard back then. Can you blame me? It was the first time I'd ever had that much energy stored up." He held a hand to his chest, and a small, glowing ball of energy came out.

"See, it takes inspiration to make inspiration. So you take a little bit of inspiration out and give it to someone..."

He plucked a fine, peach-colored thread out of the ball and held it up. It immediately made a beeline for Rhyme, and Joshua quickly snatched it back. "Hey, no freebies, this is just a demonstration."

He tucked it back into the ball. "And then that person creates their own things, multiplying the energy and inspiring others, and when they die, we get to collect it back as their fee for the Game and give it to others."

Rhyme looked a little horrified. "So all the times I've felt inspired, it was from dead people?"

Joshua gave an embarrassed cough as he hid a laugh in his hand. "No, no, some of it was your own, and some of it just naturally collects. I just..." he flipped a hand "...assist in spreading it out. Don't worry. If you fail horribly and I'm doomed to spend the rest of my immortal life down here in the dark, they'll just get a new Composer and start from scratch. Shibuya's levels will even out eventually."

"Well, that's nice to know," Rhyme said sweetly.

"Or they could just do what Ikebukuro does and _steal everything_." Joshua leaned back, pushing his chair Noise into more of a recliner shape. "I swear, they get one popular tv show and they think they can take on the big dogs."

"I kind of liked that show," Rhyme said sheepishly.

It was Joshua's turn to give her a dark look. "They're the reason we're in this mess. When districts fight for dominance, whole neighborhoods can go under, historical buildings get torn down, populations just leave, and Ikebukuro's Composer? She fights _dirty_."

Rhyme put her hands up in self-defense. "Got it. Future trips to Otome Road are officially canceled."

"Although..." Joshua sat up, stroking his chin. "I remember last time, in the late 70s when they were trying to invade via the clever plan of Department Stores...I think I stayed for the whole ceremony."

Joshua snapped his fingers, and Rhyme disappeared.

* * *

It definitely was a ceremony, Rhyme would give it that. There were drummers on the side, and a big ribbon, and people with microphones, and she had never seen the 104 building look so clean and new. There were stylish women and businessmen, some of which were in normal suits, and some of which wore bright polyester leisure suits, and she thought she spotted one or two nehru jackets. The storefronts were filled with more mature designs than she usually saw-fewer fluorescent bangles, more knee-high leather boots. She wished she could take a picture.

What she didn't see, however, was Joshua. She scanned the crowd and didn't see a hint of bright white light. Her pendant was no help at all; it gave off periodic pings when she faced the 104 building, but that was it.

It was a really bright day. Rhyme shielded her eyes as she looked around and tried to peer into the windows of the stores and...that wasn't the sun. That was Joshua, sitting all the way on top of the 104 building.

Inside her head, she heard her brother's voice say, "Son of a bitch." She agreed.

Rhyme considered the front entrance - and immediately rejected it. The ceremony was going on and there were too many people around as witnesses. She made her way around the side of the building, ducking into the narrow alleyway that led to the back.

Her instincts were good. In her day, the freight door was heavily guarded, and nobody could get in without a pass card. Now, with the chaos of the opening ceremony, there was only a single security guard watching the people come in and out.

Rhyme picked up a few of the discarded cardboard boxes that were the least crumpled and piled them up in her arms until they nearly covered her eyes. There were some papers with signatures caught on the fence. She grabbed them, too.

Taking a big breath, Rhyme put on her game face and jogged towards the door. "Excuse me! Could you get the door for me? Thanks!" she called to the security guard.

"Miss, what are you-"

"Sorry," Rhyme interrupted. "I'm in a hurry. My aunt needs to get these scarves on display today or her opening will be ruined. Here's the purchase order she sent with me." She waved the signed papers under the guard's nose. "Thanks so much! You're a big help!" With that, she passed through the door and into the back of 104.

From there, it wasn't too hard to find the service staircase in the back. "Scuse me, coming through," she chirped to anyone she passed. It was surprisingly easy, she thought. All you have to do is be confident.

Rhyme reached the top of the stairs. The door to the roof was in sight. The _padlocked_ door to the roof. Rhyme dropped the boxes and started rummaging around for materials. She found a wire hanger. She thought about her thirteenth birthday gift.

Her thirteenth birthday was the first one after the Games, and Beat had gone all out. He had gotten her a really fancy, hardcover, color print book of fashion through the twentieth century. She had loved it. Her parents hadn't loved the police showing up later that afternoon. They took Beat in for breaking and entering.

In the end, he hadn't gotten much of a fine. He hadn't technically _stolen_ anything, he just wasted too much time that day and put off getting the gift until after all the stores has closed, so he picked the lock, took the book, put money down in its place, and left. He had even locked the door when he left. Rhyme giggled as she remembered the look of utter shock on Beat's face when the police showed up, because he 'hadn't done anything wrong, yo!'

Two weeks later, when Beat was no longer grounded, he gave Rhyme her real gift. Picking locks was a useful skill to know, and it turned out she had a real knack for it.

The padlock popped open with a satisfying click. Rhyme made her way onto the roof, muffling the sounds of the jingling pendant as best she could. Joshua was sitting there, wings extended, feet dangling off the side of the roof.

Rhyme crept up behind him, trying to be as silent as she could. The crowd below was very noisy, and the wind up here was very loud, but every footstep, every crunch of gravel rattled her teeth and echoed in her ears.

She was right behind him. She slipped the chain off her neck and held it open, ready to drop it over his head.

Joshua pushed off the building's edge and fell straight down. A moment later, he had spun around and floated in front of her, wings spread, blank white eyes staring straight at her. He cocked his head back and forth as he stared.

"What are you?" he asked. "You're not human, I can see that much."

He circled around her, only inches from her face. She tried to turn to match his circling. He was so hard to look at, almost blinding, but it would be so much worse to have him at her back. "Hmm. You're a sort of Noise, aren't you? Interesting."

"Joshua, I-"

His hand closed around the collar of her shirt. She wanted to sing and dance and paint and scream. "Who told you that name?"

"You did, I-"

"Ah," Joshua said. He let go. It looked like he was shaking his head. "I understand. You're from Ikebukuro, aren't you?"

Rhyme took a step backwards. The pendant was ringing hard enough to vibrate the chain. "I'm from Shibuya. It's in trouble. You sent me to-"

"I'd know if you were from Shibuya," Joshua said, closing the gap again. "Trust me. I _am_ Shibuya." Rhyme stepped back again. Her heel caught the edge.

Rhyme could see herself reaching out, putting the chain around Joshua's neck. She could see it so clearly. She could also see herself falling off the edge. "I'm sorry," Rhyme said, and shook the bell.

* * *

"Didn't go so well?" Joshua asked. He was leaning over Rhyme, who had made the executive decision to remain lying on the floor until her vertigo passed.

"You tried to kill me," Rhyme said.

"Ah." Joshua twirled the hair over his ear as he thought. "Oh yes, I remember. Ikebukuro sent one of their modified Noise to sabotage me."

"That was me," Rhyme said.

"Was it?" Joshua looked down at her again. "You look different."

"It was literally one minute ago."

"Ah. Sorry." Joshua sat down on the floor beside her. "Memory and perception are a little weird when you're technically an amorphous embodiment of a district."

Rhyme groaned into her arms.

"Let's see," Joshua said. "You want a place where I'll stay put for a while, and a time when I'm not likely to try to kill you." He hummed to himself, stroking his chin.

"No flying," Rhyme added.

"No flying," Joshua repeated, and hummed again. "I really didn't embody much over the years. Not for long, anyway. There was that week when-no, no, I'd definitely shoot you. Hmm. Oh!"

"Oh?"

Joshua gave her a sidelong look. "You're probably not going to like it."

He put his hand on her shoulder, and she was gone.

* * *

Shibuya was dull. Rhyme never would have believed it, but it was. The tallest buildings were missing, the screens were gone. The stores were just that-normal stores, selling normal things. There were people around, yes, but there wasn't the crowd, the press, the excitement that she associated with Shibuya. The district was dead.

She was really far back in time, Rhyme realized. It was hard to judge. Most of the people were bland salarymen; their fashion rarely changed. There were a few women around in shirt dresses and carefully sculpted hair. Rhyme thought-late 60s? Mid-70s? Something like that?

At least Joshua had dropped her on a sidewalk instead of in the middle of the crossing.

Her bell jingled. Joshua was nearby. According to the timer on her hand, she had half an hour. She could do this.

Rhyme's eyes scanned above the crowd, looking for the hint of light that indicated where the Composer was flying. He liked high places, right? The clouds were thick in the sky, making everything white. She squinted, trying to pick out any variation in the color.

Her bell rang louder. She looked around at the people near her-just a handful of businessmen and a few teens waiting to cross the street. She checked across the street, shielding her eyes from the glare as she searched for a hint of light white.

It was hard to make out much on the other side; the cars were moving very fast. She hadn't thought drivers could get worse than her time period, but she guessed that without the huge crowds, they thought about pedestrians' safety even less.

Her bell rang even louder, actually vibrating on its chain. Rhyme looked around frantically. He had to be nearby. He had to-

Mr. Hanekoma was standing across the street.

If Mr. Hanekoma was there, she'd bet dollars to donuts that Joshua was with him.

Rhyme tensed, eyes on the streetlight, ready to run as soon as it turned.

Any moment now.

Any moment.

Was the light always so long?

Someone bumped into her, and Rhyme nearly launched herself into the street while the light was still green.

"Excuse me," the person said, steadying her, and Rhyme recognized Joshua's voice instantly.

Rhyme's eyes widened. Joshua looked like he did in the dark world-thin, button-down shirt, light curling hair that was much more appropriate in this setting, and yet...his hand had been warm and slightly moist. She could see him breathing, and he shifted uneasily on the balls of his feet. He wasn't smiling at all.

Joshua was human here, Rhyme realized. She was seeing Joshua before he, what did he call it, the Big Drop? Before became whatever he was, anyway, and that meant she could catch him. He was human. The light was green. There was nowhere he could go.

Rhyme slipped the pendant off of her neck and turned to Joshua. His eyes were fixed on Mr. Hanekoma across the street. He wasn't even looking at her.

She held the pendant up, spreading the chain between her hands.

Joshua took a deep breath and closed his eyes, lips twitching into an uneven smile.

Rhyme reached out.

Joshua stepped forward.

Rhyme shut her eyes and covered her ears, but she still heard the crunch.

She opened her eyes and saw Joshua's body roll twice on the pavement before coming to a stop. The cars screeched to a halt. People were screaming. Rhyme was far away, where everything was quiet.

Calmly, slowly, Rhyme walked to where Joshua lay in the street. He was still breathing. It was labored and wet-sounding, but he was alive. He was still alive.

She held her pendant in both hands, and her hands did not shake. She didn't think about how much it hurt, getting hit by a car. She didn't wonder if someone had walked up to her and Beat like this when they were the ones lying in the street.

She knelt at Joshua's side and held out the pendant.

Joshua's hand closed around the bell. He gave her a pained smile. "I like it," he said. His grip loosened, and his hand fell uselessly to his side.

His eyes drifted away from her face, focusing far beyond the clouds. "Does this mean it worked?" he asked.

Joshua shuddered, his breath becoming thick and choked. Rhyme looked away and saw Joshua-another Joshua. This Joshua finished crossing the street and walked up to Mr. Hanekoma. He said something quietly. Mr. Hanekoma affectionately tousled his hair. Joshua shrugged. They both turned away and walked down the street.

Rhyme's Joshua, the human Joshua, grew quiet.

Rhyme backed away from him. She could hear sirens approaching, and someone was asking her questions.

Rhyme closed her eyes and rang the bell as hard as she could.

* * *

"You died."

"I've been thinking..."

"You were just lying there in the road."

"We've been going about this the wrong way."

"I couldn't do anything."

"My memory's faulty, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember if you succeeded."

"Is that what you have to do?"

"Rhyme."

"Will Neku have to kill himself too?"

"Rhyme!"

Rhyme froze.

Joshua gave her a reassuring smile. "Do I look dead?" He grabbed her hand. It was warm and sort of tingled, but he felt solid and real. "I have one last idea."

She was gone.

* * *

She was in the kitchen of WildKat Cafe. Hanekoma was standing by a door that opened to nowhere, two fingers still pressed to his brow. "Where angels fear to tread, right? Cute," he said.

"What?" Rhyme asked.

"What?" Hanekoma asked.

Rhyme shook her head. "Never mind. I need to find Joshua."

Hanekoma gestured at the portal.

Rhyme fixed him with a look. "I need. To find. Joshua."

"Oh." Hanekoma rubbed the back of his neck, fixed his tie, and fiddled with his cuffs, in quick succession. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Rhyme said. "He's here somewhere, isn't he? Joshua wouldn't have sent me if he wasn't."

"Yes and no," Hanekoma said. He took off his shades and rubbed his eyes. He looked so tired. "Okay, come on, let's show you the biggest secret we've got, why not." He walked to the back door of the cafe-the real back door-and left.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Rhyme said, following him.

They left the cafe and traveled down the road, cutting through an alley to lead to the outskirts of Bit Valley. Rhyme hardly ever came to this area; it was mainly offices and tech startups, and while she was interested in many things, coding wasn't one of them.

Hanekoma entered one of the blander-looking office buildings. The security man at the front desk started to say something, but Hanekoma just waved a hand and the man sat back down with a blank look on his face. They entered the elevator, and Hanekoma hit the button for the twelfth floor.

Halfway up the elevator, Rhyme's bell started to jingle. She tucked it into her shirt, muffling its noise.

"What you're going to see is beyond classified," Hanekoma said, finally breaking the silence. "Double classified. Nobody can ever know what you're about to see. Not your brother, not the Reapers, nobody. Understood?"

"Understood," Rhyme repeated.

Hanekoma sighed. He kicked his heel on the floor a few times and stared at the elevator's ceiling. "I can't believe I'm here," he said.

The elevator doors opened onto what looked like a perfectly normal office. Hanekoma strolled up to the secretary's desk, Rhyme following behind. The secretary seemed perfectly normal as well-neatly dressed, attentive, photographs of family displayed around a vase with a few flowers that were maybe a day too old to be beautiful.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"She's here to see Yoshiya Kiryu," Hanekoma said, motioning to Rhyme.

The secretary's eyes widened as she took in Rhyme's appearance, and Rhyme squirmed as she realized how young and blonde and, well, _schoolgirl_ she was. She resisted the urge to tug at the hem of her uniform and stood up straight.

" _She's his niece_ ," Hanekoma said firmly, his hand on Rhyme's shoulder.

"Of course," the secretary said smoothly. She picked up a phone and dialed an extension. "Kiryu? There's a young woman to see you at the front desk? Your niece? Mm-hm." She hung up the phone. "He'll be here in a moment."

Rhyme's pendant jingled again. Hanekoma stumbled backwards. "Sorry, I..." Rhyme looked at his face and, for the first time, felt sympathy for him. His shields were down, and everything underneath was raw and hurting. "I can't do this."

"Ma'am?" the secretary asked. Rhyme looked away for a moment. When she looked back, Hanekoma was gone. "Ma'am, you can wait in those chairs."

Rhyme obediently took a seat, her heart racing. She told herself to be calm. She was alone in a perfectly normal office that apparently held the biggest secret she would ever know. That wasn't so bad, was it?

"Hello?" a man said. Rhyme jumped. She had been so caught up in her own thoughts, she hadn't even heard someone approach. "Were you looking for me?"

He was a small man-not necessarily in height, but in presence. On the far end of middle age, his thinning hair was mostly gray, his shoulders slumped, and he was thin beyond good health. Behind his thin-rimmed glasses, even his eyes were pale and tired.

Rhyme got to her feet and bowed. "Mr. Kiryu? My name is Raimu Bito. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you as well," Kiryu said, bowing back. "I'm sorry, I, ah. I'm not interested in buying anything, if that's why you're here."

"No, no, I'm a family friend," Rhyme said. "Can we talk somewhere?"

Kiryu gave a puzzled smile. "Certainly. Come this way, then." He led her past the secretary's desk, turning away from the dark, polished wood of the office doors and towards the maze of cubicles in the center. The man walked with a limp. It wasn't really noticeable, just a slight favoring of his left leg that made Rhyme herself feel off balance.

Rhyme's bell was jingling loudly. She grabbed it through her shirt to muffle its noise.

They arrived at his cubicle, and Kiryu sank gratefully into his chair. Rhyme sat in the chair opposite. "Don't get old," Kiryu said, smiling gently. "I don't recommend it."

Rhyme laughed politely.

Kiryu's cubicle was very plain. A computer, a filing cabinet, some papers strewn here and there. There were no photos or plants. There were three postcards of artwork pinned to the wall. Judging by the yellowing of the paper, they had been there a long time.

A young man in a natty business suit poked his head into Kiryu's cubicle. "Kiryu, I'm going to need the updated budget by 3:00 today."

"Yes, sir," Kiryu said.

"And don't forget to account for inflation in the projected payroll expenses. The overage almost cost us our bonuses last year," he added.

Kiryu's face remained blank, but Rhyme could see him clench his fist under the seat of his chair. "Of course, sir."

"Good. Three o'clock. On my desk." The young boss finally noticed Rhyme. "Oh, you have a guest? I never thought I'd have to remind you of our policy of relationships in the workplace, but-"

"She's my niece," Kiryu interrupted.

"Your niece?" the young man said.

"My niece," Kiryu said firmly.

"Ah. Well. Keep it brief. We have a deadline to meet." The young boss walked away. Rhyme could vaguely hear him muttering to himself, "I didn't think he had any family."

Kiryu smiled sheepishly. He leaned forward in his chair, resting an elbow on his long legs. His free hand reached up and twirled a strand of hair above his ear. "Sorry about that. What did you need to talk about?"

Rhyme's bell went nuts. She pulled it out and pressed it between her palms, trying to mute its noise. In her flailing, Kiryu's nameplate caught her eye. "Yoshiya Kiryu?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"Did you..." She looked him straight in the eye. "Did you ever go by 'Joshua?'"

She could actually see Kiryu stop breathing for a moment. "How did you know?" He scratched his head and looked away. "I haven't been called that since I was a teenager."

Rhyme held out the pendant. It rang madly. She told it, "Hush," and to her surprise, it stilled.

Kiryu pushed back in his chair, pointing at the pendant. "I remember that! From when I-from the accident, with the car, and I..." He frowned at Rhyme, trying to read her face. "Was that you?"

"I'm sorry," Rhyme said. She got out of her chair and opened the chain. "I really need you to wear this for a moment, okay?"

She noticed that the timer on her hand had run out. She idly wondered when that had happened. It probably wasn't even close.

She slipped the necklace over his head. There was a bright flash of light, brighter than any she had seen, brighter than the sun, and Rhyme blacked out.

* * *

Rhyme woke up in her bed the next morning. Her parents had left her a little note on the fridge saying that they hoped she felt better and good luck on her geometry test today. "Or end up a trade-school bum disappointment like your brother," Rhyme read out loud the subtext, and crumpled the note.

She changed into her uniform, walked halfway to school, turned around, and walked across the crossing, past Cadoi, down Cat Street, through the side alley, up to an unassuming office building, and inside. She nodded cheerfully at the security guard, saying, "I'm seeing my uncle on floor twelve," and never stopped until she was inside the elevator. She hit the right button and hummed along with the elevator music until she reached her floor.

"I'm seeing Uncle Kiryu; I'll be really quick," she chirped to the secretary and breezed past her protests.

There was a cardboard box on Kiryu's desk. Inside it was a pencil cup, a few round paperweights, and a lot of empty space. Kiryu stared into the box despondently.

Rhyme knocked on the side of the cubicle's opening. "Can I come in?" she asked.

Kiryu looked up with a jerk. "Ms. Bito?"

"You can call me Rhyme," Rhyme said. She looked at the cardboard box. That was never a good sign. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine. They fired me," Kiryu said.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine," Kiryu repeated. "Apparently, they don't like it when you cause a huge emp surge and wipe the data on all the surrounding computers." He shrugged. "Who knew?"

"I'm-"

"Don't apologize," Kiryu said, cutting her off. "I..." He looked her in the eyes. "I really hated this job."

Rhyme started to laugh despite herself. After a moment, Kiryu joined in. His laugh was hoarse and quiet, like he hadn't used it in a while, but he was enjoying the practice again.

"Mr. Kiryu-"

"Please, call me Yoshiya," he said.

"Mr. Yoshiya...can I buy you a cup of coffee?" Rhyme asked.

"I'd love that," Yoshiya said. He picked up the cardboard box, then put it down again. Rhyme plucked the picture postcards off his wall and handed them to him. They were blank on the back. "Thanks," he said, and tucked them into his coat pocket.

They walked out past the secretary, calmly strolling together like they hadn't a care in the world. Once the elevator doors closed, Yoshiya started laughing again. "Over twenty years in that place, and now all they're going to remember is how I blew up the server and walked out with a teenage girl."

Rhyme walked with Yoshiya out of the building. He didn't look back. In a split-second decision, she led him away from Cat Street and towards the crossing. They climbed the stairs to the Starbucks on the second floor and claimed seats near the window overlooking the scramble.

Rhyme took a sip of her coffee and winced happily at its bitter burn. It wasn't as good as the coffee at WildKat, but Rhyme thought she might grow to like it better. A funny prickle worked its way up the back of her neck, but she ignored it.

"Are you an angel?" Yoshiya asked.

Rhyme smiled around her coffee cup. "No, I'm human." She paused. "Mostly human," she amended. Then again...she realized that she hadn't seen a single Noise all day. No Reapers, no ghosts, and definitely no hint of Joshua. "Possibly entirely human?" She exhaled and blew bubbles in her coffee. "I have no idea."

"So...do you know if it worked?" Yoshiya asked.

"Hm?"

Yoshiya sighed. "When I was fifteen, a man said that if I did...what I did...then we would be able to work together to take control of Shibuya. We would be able to put it back on the right track. Instead, I woke up in a hospital, feeling empty. I stopped seeing things. I never talked to him again." He gave a wry smile. "I never did anything again."

Rhyme pointed out the window. "Look down there." He glanced where she was pointing. "No, really look. Does it look like you failed?"

There were people down there. All sorts of people, all sorts of color, all sorts of fashion. There were German tourists bunched in an awkward group, there were serious businessmen talking on phones with colorful charms hanging from them, there were teenage girls with bleach-blonde hair and rainbow necklaces cutting class. Someone waiting on the corner right under the window started to sing "You may go in, you may enter~!" to encourage the walk signal to play, and a few people laughingly joined in. Art and advertisements, shining and bold, hung from every building. The district shone.

Yoshiya smiled to himself. "I suppose that was a foolish question."

"I was hit by a car too," Rhyme said. She kept her eyes trained on the people below. "When I was twelve. I died. I played the Reapers' Game-you know the Reapers' Game, right?"

"Yes," Yoshiya said. "I could see it, back then. That man- Mr. Hanekoma said I'd have to play it. I'm assuming you won?"

"Actually, I lost," Rhyme said. "I'm only here now because of a loophole. Once the Games were over, I woke up in bed, and I had never been hit by the car, only..." She took a long sip of her coffee. "I had lost my dreams. They were my entry fee," she explained.

"I'm sorry," Yoshiya said.

Rhyme shrugged. "It's okay. You can't miss what you can't remember, right? And I decided that, well, just because I lost my old dreams doesn't mean I can't make new ones. So now I write."

Yoshiya smiled at her fondly. "It must be nice to be young. You have all the choices in the world to make."

Rhyme raised her eyebrows. "Last I checked, you're not dead yet."

Yoshiya twisted the hair above his ear as he thought. "I've never left Shibuya since I moved here. Isn't that funny? Over forty years, and I never left the district." His hand stilled. "I have some money saved up..." he mused.

"You could send me postcards?" Rhyme offered. As she scribbled her address onto a napkin, his hand moved on top of where he had tucked his art postcards, old, faded, unused. "And I could send you my stories when I finish."

"I'd like that," he said, accepting her address. He stood up. "Thank you, Rhyme."

He opened his arms, and Rhyme leaned in for a hug. His shoulders were bony and he was far too thin, but he was warm and comfortable all the same. She felt a little sad when he let her go.

"I ought to go," Yoshiya said. His face lit up and his hand cupped his chin, and for a moment, he looked like Joshua again. "I need to pack. I'm going on a trip!"

"Take care, Mr. Yoshiya!" Rhyme said as he left. She took another sip of her coffee, then swirled the remained around the bottom of her cup and watched the patterns. The back of her neck still prickled. She mentally counted to ten, long enough that she was certain Yoshiya was far enough away and wasn't coming back.

"Was there something you wanted, Joshua?" Rhyme asked. When she looked up, Joshua was seated in the chair next to her, acting like he'd been there all along.

He gave her a thumbs up. "Nice scene. 'Ten out of ten, would sniffle again.'"

She rolled her eyes. "Neku knows, right?" she asked.

"What, that taking the Big Drop to become my Conductor involves shedding his body like an empty husk, leaving it to go on and age without him and live its own life of uninspired mediocrity, making a mockery of all he'd hoped to accomplish in his life?" Joshua asked, waving a hand around in the air. "You mean that?"

"Yes. That," Rhyme said plainly.

"Of course." Joshua snorted. "I'm not going to force him. He knows what the deal is. He gets to choose when he's ready, and I-" Rhyme wrapped her arms around him. Joshua trailed off. "What are you doing?"

"Hugging you."

Joshua patted her back. "There, there?"

"Shut up and take the hug," she grumbled. "I'm sorry for what happened to you back then," she said.

"It's no big deal," Joshua said.

"I'm still sorry. It wasn't fair." She felt him slowly relax until he was resting his head on her shoulder. His wispy hair tickled her neck.

"I fixed you," Joshua said into her shoulder. "You don't have any Noise left in you now."

"Thank you."

"I could give you your dreams back," Joshua said. "It's against the rules, but you've earned it, you-"

"I don't need them."

"Well, what do you want?"

"Stop offering things," Rhyme said. Joshua pulled back and just stared at her until she felt as though she'd just kicked a puppy. A puppy that was kind of acting like a jerk, but the point still stood. "I'd like to finish my latest chapter?"

He grabbed her hand and gently brushed his lips across her knuckles.

"Done," Joshua said, then disappeared.

Rhyme sat down and pulled out her notebook and a pen. She noticed on the back of her hand was a timer, counting down two hours. "I can do it in that," she said, and started to write. It had never been easier.


End file.
